


Grantaire’s Magical Wacky Summer Camp Adventure

by eghed



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Getting Together, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Summer Camp AU, discontinued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 13:06:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14081559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eghed/pseuds/eghed
Summary: When Grantaire is coerced into attending a summer camp before he is too old to do so, he never expects to meet Enjolras, the trivia-filled dreamboat camp counselor who knows a lot about plants. Will they end up together? Well, yeah. Of course. You already know.





	Grantaire’s Magical Wacky Summer Camp Adventure

Consciousness comes to Grantaire slowly as the large, stinky bus rattles to a stop. The noise of rowdy teens greets his ears as he blearily rubs his eyes, and he stretches. The bus ride had been long and exhausting, and he’s glad to finally have arrived.  
He rubs his eyes, then shoves Eponine, who is sleeping peacefully against the window. She grunts and sits up.  
“What?” She grumbles as she rubs her eyes. She swears when she realizes she was wearing eyeliner.  
“Don’t worry, you still look delightfully emo,” Grantaire comforts her with mock sympathy. “We’re here.”  
The two of them slump off the bus last, following the herd of noisy kids. The hot afternoon sun beats down, Grantaire’s dark green sweatshirt soaking up the rays. Eponine fans herself delicately; her black turtleneck can’t be too comfortable in this weather either.  
A counselor guides the group to a central fire pit, with a small platform behind it. It kind of reminds Grantaire of ‘Camp Rock’.  
“This reminds me of Camp Rock,” Eponine remarks. Grantaire nods, and they sit together on a log.  
The counselor who led them to the fire, joined by several others, take the platform. They’re all wearing funny green shorts that stop just above the knee, chunky belts, and tan shirts. They’re each wearing a little scarf, too, and they’re each a different color of the rainbow.  
“Gay scarves,” Eponine whispers to Grantaire. He grins and they bump fists. The counselor from before, who’s wearing a blue scarf, smiles brightly. He walks up to a microphone at the front of the platform, which gives off some feedback. He cringes, but shakes it off and speaks.  
“Hello! My name is Jean Valjean, but please, call me Jean. I’m the head counselor here at Camp ABC. Before we begin, I’d like all of our wonderful counselors to introduce themselves, please.”  
Jean is a cheerful looking man with heavy smile lines and graying black hair. He is dark-skinned and rather muscular. Grantaire thinks he looks like a hot dad, but he keeps that to himself. Jean takes a step back, and the first counselor introduces himself.  
“Hi, my name is Feuilly. I’m in charge of the Poland cabin, and the arts and crafts activities.” He smiles and steps back. His scarf is orange, Grantaire notices. The next person walks up, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and bleached short blonde hair. She wears a purple scarf. She smiles.  
“My name is Fantine!” She says cheerfully. She has a very melodic voice. “I am in charge of the Italy cabin, and all of the lake activities. If you ever need help with anything, let me know!”  
A few more introductions are made, until it’s down to the last counselor. Grantaire hasn’t noticed him until now, having been preoccupied making fun of these goofy outfits with Eponine, but hoo boy. Hatchie matchie. This guy is hot.  
He has golden blonde hair that the sun hits gorgeously, and Grantaire takes a mental picture to paint later. His face looks carved of marble, and his dark brown eyes shine like a sunset on a lake. He’s tall and has a little bit of muscle definition, and he actually makes the stupid shorts work. His scarf is red. He’s a conventionally attractive dream. Eponine gives him a knowing look, and he shoves her.  
“Hi,” his voice is soft, yet powerful. Grantaire feels like he’s floating. “My name is Enjolras. I’m in charge of the France cabin, and I run the theatrical activities.” He gives a short nod, and steps back.  
“I’ve always liked a man in uniform,” Grantaire dreamily mumbles to Eponine, who snorts.  
“You hate cops. And the military.”  
“Shh, that matters not.”  
Jean steps back up to the microphone and quiets everyone down. “Now, we’re going to assign cabins. You’ll receive a scarf matching the color of your cabin’s counselor, and once you do, please walk over to them.”  
“If I don’t get red I’ll die,” Grantaire says to Eponine.  
“I don’t really care which cabin I get, as long as I’m with that cute girl over there,” Eponine mumbles, brushing of his comment and jerking her head towards a young girl with brown skin and long black curly hair. Grantaire whistles, and Eponine elbows him. He’s gonna be pretty bruised by the end of this trip, he realizes.  
He waits with baited breath as Eponine receives her purple scarf, which matches the girl across the camp’s. She beams. Grantaire holds his breath as Jean fishes around in his pouch and pulls out—  
A blue scarf.  
He does his best to hide his disappointment as Jean grins. “Hey, that’s my cabin! The England cabin. Congrats!”  
Grantaire nods. “Haha, yeah.”  
Jean pats his shoulder and continues on. Grantaire slumps forward. “Ep, this sucks—“  
But Eponine is gone. She’s joined her group, and is nervously introducing herself to the girl from before. The girl clasps her hand and smiles. Grantaire sighs and looks around for Enjolras. He’s standing on the edge of the platform, talking to his group. He looks a little bummed. Poor Enjolras, stuck with a bunch of kids with ugly haircuts, bored out of his mind. If Grantaire were in his cabin, he certainly wouldn’t be bored—  
“Grantaire!” Jean’s back. “We’re headed to the cabin now, come join us!”  
He heaves himself up and joins the rest of the group. 

After a few hours of unpacking and exploring the campground, Grantaire finds himself sitting under a tree near the edge of camp, earbuds in and eyes closed. ‘Love Again’ by Carly Rae is playing, and he may or may not be lip-syncing. That is, until he hears a soft chuckle. He quickly rips his earbuds out and sits up. Before him, in all of his glory, stands Enjolras.  
“Sorry, not to be a bother, but it’s almost time for supper,” he says, his voice clear and his smile wide. Grantaire feels like he’s choking. “Jean sent me to look for you. It’s Grantaire, right?”  
Grantaire gulps. “The one and only,” he says.  
Enjolras holds out a hand, which Grantaire tentatively takes hold of. It’s kind of cold, and a bit dry, but Grantaire doesn’t mind. It humanizes him, if only just a little. Enjolras pulls him up from the dirt.  
“Well, Grantaire, let’s head on back.”  
They do. Grantaire walks behind Enjolras to look at his ass in those stupid shorts that he somehow pulls off.  
The walk back to camp is quiet, save for Enjolras pointing out a few local varieties of plants along the way. Grantaire literally couldn’t care less, but he’ll do anything to keep hearing those dulcet tones.  
“So this plant. What’s this?” Grantaire says, pointing at some grass. His face gives away nothing. Enjolras, baffled, looks at him.  
“Uh—the grass?” He asks. He looks like a confused dog.  
“That’s what it’s called?” Grantaire exclaims. He squats in the dirt to look at it closer. “Tell me more!”  
Enjolras makes a strained noise, but sits on the ground next to him. “Well, grass belongs to the bulb family of plants. There are lots of different types of grass, but the common kind used in lawns is called turf.”  
“Wow! That’s amazing! You must, like, have a degree in botany or something.”  
Enjolras rubs the back of his head. “Haha, no. I haven’t even started my first semester of college yet.”  
Grantaire cocks his head. “Wait, did you get held back a bunch or are you only eighteen?”  
“Yeah. I almost didn’t get this job, but there were only a few people here who were seventeen, so they didn’t think it was a big deal.”  
“That’s crazy, because I’m seventeen!” Grantaire places an emphatic hand on his chest. “Kinda funny how that works out, huh!”  
“Haha, uh, yeah.” Enjolras stands up, and, while he looks away, Grantaire pouts. “Well, we’re absolutely late for supper now. Let’s go, while there’s still some food left.” Enjolras takes Grantaire’s hand once again to lift him up, and they walk back to the mess hall.  
Inside, he’s grateful to see that seats aren’t sorted by cabin. He spots Eponine, and starts to head in her direction, but he stops when he realizes her table is full. She’s sitting next to that same girl, and they’re laughing together. He deflates, but tries his hardest to mask it. Enjolras sees him standing stuck in the center of the room, and walks over to him.  
“Don’t have a place to sit?” He asks sympathetically. Grantaire shrugs.  
“I’m used to it. I’ll just go sit on the porch.” Enjolras’ mouth opens, and then shuts.  
“Want me to join you?”  
And so, the two of them slip out the open front door and out onto the sun-heated porch. They take seats across from each other on some wicker chairs, and eat in silence. Grantaire feels pretty bad as he eats. Enjolras could be in there eating with his friends, but he had to eat with a Grantaire out of pity. What a guy.  
“Was one of those girls you were walking towards, uh...” Enjolras starts, and Grantaire is pulled from his thoughts. He snorts.  
“Ah, no. Eponine, the kinda goth one, is my best friend, but we’re not—I mean, I don’t...” he clears his throat. “I don’t swing that way.”  
He swears he sees Enjolras’ eyes widen, if only for a second, before he nods. “Yeah, totally. Just so you know, this camp is totally inclusive of everybody in the LGBT community, so don’t worry about—well. You know.” He grimaces a little. Grantaire smiles at him.  
“Y’know, it kinda sucks that I’m relieved to find out I won’t get beat up. That should just be, like, an expectation.” He sighs. Enjolras nods in agreement.  
“I feel you,” he says. “It sucks that we can’t, like, hold hands with our partners in public, or, like, exist without people throwing rocks at us.” Whoa. Hold up. We?  
Grantaire’s heart speeds up. Is Enjolras gay? Or bi, he doesn’t want to assume. Holy buckets. This gorgeous, intelligent hunk of man is into guys? This must be Grantaire’s lucky day!  
“It’s worth it, though. Guys are pretty great.” Enjolras says wistfully, sinking back into his chair. Grantaire is losing his mind.  
“Big mood,” he says, because his brain won’t think of anything better. Enjolras cracks a smile.  
“Big mood,” he echoes. Grantaire is done for.

**Author's Note:**

> enjolras chuckled. “you mean the chaos emeralds?”


End file.
